


Bloody Hands

by SpookyBitch



Series: Bloody - Bellamy Blake X OC [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miscarriage, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Rape Aftermath, Sex, Smut, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBitch/pseuds/SpookyBitch
Summary: Everything was white until she painted the walls red. Cheyenne Barnes intended to bathe in the blood of those that had wronged her. Bellamy Blake X OC *Sequel to Blood Red*





	1. Warning/Prologue

Attention: There will be no trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

This work contains elements that could be triggering to some, such as the mention of rape, dubious consent to sex, abusive situations, mentions of blood, suicide, death, murder, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, somewhat graphic descriptions of sex, sexual situations, panic attacks, gore, graphic descriptions and references to a lost pregnancy etc. This is a fictional story that romanticizes possessive/controlling behavior and some abusive situations. Please be aware of this before continuing.

All rights go to the creators of The 100.

I did my best not to re-write the show scene for scene. Instead, the meat of this is between the scenes that air on TV. The original character (Cheyenne Barnes) is not the main character. The main characters of The 100 are and always will be Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake. Cheyenne is supposed to be supplemental to their story while starring in her own.

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This story is the sequel to Blood Red. I re-used the warning from the first story but the theme in this is more violent and less sexual than the previous. I added one warning, and though I know it gives away a pretty big event, I didn't want someone to move forward unprepared if there was a possibility of it being a trigger to them. There's no prologue because it picks up exactly where the previous left off.


	2. Chapter 1

Day 30

She was in the Skybox again. The ceiling was white. The walls were white. The bed was white. The clothes she was wearing were white. Blood was smeared on her hands, up to her forearms, soaking into the white clothes and the white bedsheets and dripping onto the white floor. Earth was a dream. She would be delivered her lunch ration soon, and then she would lay back down to sleep some more. Maybe she would paint the walls with the blood on her hands. Her murals had been getting better and better with every day. Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin and a forming child were distant memories of a forgotten dream. Until they weren't.

A cramp in lower abdomen made her suck in a breath, both hands pressing against her stomach. Blood was staining the white board-shorts, the sheets around her thighs, the soft skin of her knees. The cramp worsened until she was curled into herself, tears streaking down her face. She called out for Clarke, yelling out the older girl's name. Clarke never answered. Then she called out for Bellamy. Bellamy Blake, who promised to protect her, who promised to come back to her, who she belonged to, never answered her either.

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Day 31

Cheyenne felt hollow. The pain was gone, but the blood on her hands remained as it always did. When she woke up, the bedsheets were white, her clothes were white, everything was white. Then the door opened. An old man and a woman in a lab coat entered the room, watching closely when she sat up. There was a fading ache in her lower stomach when her body moved to accommodate the new position, and the stiffness of a pad in her underwear sent alarm bells screeching in her head.

"Cheyenne, I'm Dr. Tsing, and this is President Dante Wallace. How are you feeling?" the woman asked. Her voice was empty though she tried to sound concerned. Cheyenne knew the feeling.

"I'm fine. Where am I?" she asked, trying not to demand. There was an IV pole next to her bed and a clipboard in the doctor's hand. She could defend herself if she needed to. "Where are Clarke and Bellamy?"

"You're in Mount Weather, Cheyenne." Dante's voice had a real warmth to it, but everything about him seemed off. "Your friend Clarke has already caused quite the stir here."

Cheyenne's teeth clacked together when her jaw clenched. "Where is she?" The question was cold, as was the look on her face. A darkness swirled in her chest when no one responded to her.

Dante and Dr. Tsing glanced at one another but made no outward sign of nervousness at her vicious tone. Cheyenne knew they underestimated her because of her size and her age. She had a list of others that had underestimated her, too, and they were all dead. Dante stepped back toward the door, grabbing a rolling trunk from just outside of it. The white floor was cold on her bare feet, but the chill of this place was nothing compared to the year she'd spent in the Skybox with half heat and ice water showers.

"Please, help yourself to whatever you like. Once you've changed and we've talked, we'll take you to Clarke and the rest of your friends."

Cheyenne watched them close the door behind her. Something didn't feel right. She pressed a hand against her stomach where the phantom pain still lingered, swallowing hard. Pushing through the small trunk of clothes, she tried to find something unrestricting and easy to move in. Behind several dresses and skirts, she found a pair of pants and a sweater. Cheyenne had never seen clothes that were not threadbare and well worn. She dressed and fitted a pair of tennis shoes onto her feet before she knocked on the door. Dr. Tsing and Dante stepped back in, the latter rolling the cart to someone back in the hallway.

"Cheyenne, were you aware of any medical conditions you had before coming here?" Dr. Tsing asked.

Dread filled Cheyenne's chest, tightening around her ribs like a straitjacket. When she opened her mouth to reply, her lip trembled. "I want to see Clarke." Her voice broke.

Dante cut off Dr. Tsing before she could say anything else. "Maybe it would be best to bring Clarke here first," he said slowly, giving Dr. Tsing a stern look. She pursed her lips but nodded obediently. "Wait right here, I'll be back in just a moment."

It felt like a mix of forever and no time at all. Dr. Tsing stood in silence, watching her with a blank face. Cheyenne didn't bother to acknowledge her. Then Clarke was coming through the door dressed in nice clothes with clean hair and barely a scratch on her. Cheyenne flung herself into Clarke's arms. They held onto each other tightly, relief and desperation whirling together like a tornado in their hearts. Clarke pulled back to put her hands on either side of Cheyenne's face, smiling even as tears were filling the younger girl's eyes. They hugged again.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Clarke breathed into her shoulder. She lifted her head to look angrily in the direction of the strangers. "Why was she not released with the others? What's going on?"

"There were some complications," Dr. Tsing said slowly.

"What kind of complications?" Clarke demanded. She still hadn't released Cheyenne from her grip and could feel her muscles winding tight beneath her skin. "Is her baby okay?"

The silence told them everything they needed to know. Cheyenne felt like she was drowning. There was water in her eyes, in her ears, in her nose, in her mouth. It was filling her lungs and her stomach and spaces between her bones. There had been no baby in her stomach, but there would have been had it been allowed to grow. It was Bellamy's baby. It was Bellamy's. It was gone.

"Where's Bellamy?" Cheyenne croaked hoarsely. She felt Clarke stiffen and pulled her head back from the older girl's neck to look at her face. "Where is he?"

"We have people out scouting the area for him and any other survivors," Dante said.

Cheyenne's eyes snapped to his, and she could see the old man stiffen. Her stare was empty and unwavering. "You're lying." She could see liar carved into his skin like ink.

"Annie, don't," Clarke said lowly. "It's going to be okay." She could hear the hidden message in Clarke's voice. 'Trust me, I have a plan.' Clarke pushed Cheyenne back a few steps behind her before turning back to Dr. Tsing. "What happened? How did she lose the baby?"

"Miscarriages are quite common before six weeks and are caused by a number of factors. To be quite frank, we're surprised you even had knowledge of the pregnancy," Dr. Tsing explained.

"That's why you asked me if I had any medical conditions before coming here," Cheyenne said. Her voice was quiet but it seemed to echo through the room. "You weren't going to tell me if I didn't know." Her fists clenched, jagged nails digging into her palms. "You weren't going to tell me." Her heart clenched as tight as her hands. She was burning like the sun, anger and hate brimming over uncontrollably.

Clarke had to lunge into Cheyenne, stopping her from attacking the doctor just as she'd had to stop her from attacking Raven the day of the hurricane. She could hear the doctor calling for someone to bring a sedative over her own shouts of Cheyenne's name. More than anything, she wanted to yell for Bellamy. Just being around him seemed to keep the younger girl leveled. Panic surged through Clarke's chest when the tech arrived with a syringe. Clarke was no Bellamy and she couldn't break through the vicious, angry fog that overtook her mind just by being there.

Desperate to keep Cheyenne from getting sedated and stuck separated from her in this hostile place, she pulled her arm back and slapped the younger girl across the face as hard as she could. Cheyenne stumbled back into the wall to lean against it, holding her cheek with one hand. She looked up at Clarke with wide eyes only to see shock all over her friend's face. The tech with the syringe had stopped to stare, as did Dr. Tsing and Dante.

"You've got to stop," Clarke stressed, pleading with her eyes against the righteous indignation inside of Cheyenne. Everything was tense and quiet for a few tight seconds.

The younger girl jerked her head into a nod. "Okay, I'm – I'm good, I'll stop." The pain in her chest didn't let up. She was suffocating with the weight of it. Bellamy's beautiful brown eyes were not there to keep the color in her world of gray. There was no one to press purple reminders of companionship into her skin. He wasn't there to kiss her head and tell her he still wanted her even now that his baby was gone.

"See, she's good – don't touch her with that." Clarke got between the tech and Cheyenne even though he'd made no move to continue toward her.

Though she looked uncomfortable, Dr. Tsing nodded at the tech and he left. Then, Dante dismissed her, and she left as well. With Clarke between Dante and Cheyenne, the younger girl moved to sit on the bed, rubbing her cheek softly. She waved off Clarke's apology. She knew how she got when she lost control of herself, whether it was to anger or fear or something else entirely.

"Is this going to be a problem when we put her with the others?" Dante asked, speaking to Clarke but looking at Cheyenne.

"No, it won't be," Clarke responded immediately. "She's never had a problem with any of the others." She left out that Cheyenne did everything she could to avoid everyone else.

"Make sure it isn't."

Dante headed for the door, bidding them to follow. They did, Cheyenne slower than Clarke. The hallway was just as white as the room. They rode an elevator down two floors and the motion from the movement made Cheyenne's stomach lurch uncomfortably. Dante brought them to a room with bunk beds where the rest of the campers were already at. Everyone looked at ease and relaxed, all wearing fresh clothes.

"Good, Clarke! You're back in time to go to the mess hall with us," Jasper said brightly, coming up to them with Monty following. "And, uh, you too, Cheyenne."

Cheyenne stared blankly at his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. She was rigid with discomfort. "I'd rather eat my own fucking intestines than eat the food in this place."

Jasper recoiled from her vicious words as if they physically struck him. It was the first time she had ever spoken to him and she hoped it would be the last.

"I want to talk to you about that, Annie," Clarke said quietly from her side. "But, first, you need to eat. You're going to be feeling a little weak after…" She trailed off and Cheyenne sucked in a sharp breath.

"All I want to do is leave," Cheyenne snapped. She tried to uncoil her hands from the fists they formed, but couldn't. Her nails would break the skin if she didn't get her fingers to unlock. She looked at Monty, recognizing him after a few seconds. "You're the one that went missing."

"And you're the girl that was in Bellamy's tent," Monty returned awkwardly. "You led the search for Clarke and Finn."

Clarke interrupted them, much to Cheyenne's pleasure. She didn't want to talk to any of these people. She didn't care if these people dropped dead in front of her. She wanted to slaughter that doctor, leave here with Clarke, and go find Bellamy. Then she would grieve for what she could have had. When she was back with Bellamy, everything would be okay again. That was where she belonged. That was all she cared about.

"Let's go eat. You need your strength, Annie. Especially if we're going to go find Bellamy." Clarke grabbed the younger girl's hand in her own, uncurling her fingers from her palm and threading their fingers together. "Come on."

They made their way to the mess hall, the rest of the forty-eight campers in tow. The President made a speech, and everyone stood to hold hands but Cheyenne. She stared numbly at her bowl of food and wanted to die. She wanted to die like Bellamy's baby had died before having a chance to live. Forcing herself to eat once Clarke nudged her, she devoured everything put in front of her. Clarke was right. She needed her strength if she was going to tear our Dr. Tsing's insides and bathe in her blood. She hoped Clarke didn't mind that her body count was about to jump from six to seven.


	3. Chapter 2

Day 31 (Continued)

A community bathroom was linked to their dorm by a door. Clarke had shown her to it after they left the mess hall, letting Cheyenne know where to find the feminine products and how much blood to expect over the coming days. She was concerned when the younger girl had shown no outward sign of being upset. Then, they sat on Clarke's bunk where she marked up a map with the knowledge she had of the building.

"This place is like the Ark, only up and down instead of in all directions," Cheyenne remarked, looking closely at the map. "I couldn't find my way around up there for shit. Not like I could in the forest, at least."

"I figured that would be the case." Clarke furrowed her eyebrows as she focused on the map. "No offense," she amended absently. She did a double take when she noticed Cheyenne was staring at her. "What?"

"I lost my fucking mind when you went missing, Clarke. I couldn't handle it. And now –" Her voice broke with the effort used to keep it steady. "And now, I feel that way about Bellamy, and I…"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. He's fine. He and Finn are both fine. I can feel it," Clarke assured her. She put her hand on the other girl's knee. "Annie, I'm going to get us out of here. We're going to get him, I'll bring him back to you."

A few tears slipped out of Cheyenne's eyes, but she didn't cry, all too aware of the eyes and ears around them. Her voice was a whisper when she finally found it. "That's almost what he said to me about you before you walked through the gate at camp." She sniffed and hardened her gaze. "I'm going to kill her."

Clarke leveled her with a serious look. "You might need to."

Clarke and Cheyenne laid down next to one another in the bed, reminiscent of the day Raven had come down in the pod. Cheyenne found her hand in the darkness of the dorm, just like she had in Bellamy's tent, only this time she wasn't surrounded by his smell or confident that she would see him again soon. This time, she fell asleep to the steady sound of forty-eight other campers breathing around her, surrounded by the enemy. The fragile threads holding her mind together, threads that Bellamy and Clarke had strung together in her head, were fraying at the edges and getting ready to snap. She knew when they did, there would be nothing left of her.

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Day 32

Cheyenne was immediately aware. The sensation was nothing like waking up. Waking up was slow, fuzzy, and warm. Her green eyes opened to the ceiling of their dorm in Mount Weather and there was nothing slow, fuzzy, or warm in her head. After a trip to the bathroom, she was back with Clarke looking over the map. They had stretched out on the top bunk together.

"It's not bad," Jasper said from over Clarke's shoulder. "Maybe they'll hang it on the walls here one day."

Before Clarke could reply, there was a voice shouting Miller's name. Cheyenne's head shot up over the edge of the bunk to see him walking next to an unfamiliar girl. Clarke sat up on the bed, but Cheyenne slid down to the floor. She pulled Miller into a tight hug, surprising them both.

"It's good to see you breathing. No one's there to keep me company while I'm lazy if you're dead," she teased dryly. Miller laughed.

"Miller," Clarke greeted. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah, it only took what – three surgeries? I hear you're fitting right in." Miller watched an awkward silent exchange between Maya and Clarke.

Maya handed him a bottle of pills with instructions on how to take them before she walked away with Jasper. Miller put the bag Maya had given him along with the pill bottle on the bottom bunk. Cheyenne stood at the end of the bed, watching the girl with Jasper.

"Who is that?" she asked, looking to Clarke for an answer.

"I held her hostage when I first woke up. Busted out the glass in my door and used a piece of it," Clarke explained awkwardly.

Cheyenne made a noise, but there wasn't much for her to say. Clarke should have killed her. An alarm began wailing overhead and Clarke hopped down from the bunk to intercept Maya.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Maya didn't hesitate to answer. "That signal means a surface patrol is back and someone needs medical attention. I have to go to quarantine."

Clarke and Cheyenne locked eyes when Maya sidestepped the blonde. The younger girl nodded, moving to follow Maya alongside Clarke. She didn't stop when Clarke's arm was grabbed by Jasper. Instead, she kept pace a few strides behind Maya until Clarke caught up with him on her heels. Cheyenne tried to keep track of the way they went, but ultimately, she was lost. Out of breath when they came to a stop, she tried to regulate her breathing while Clarke started to demand answers. Phantom pain lingered again in her lower abdomen sending another wave of rage into her. Clarke snatched a keycard and they were off again running.

"Clarke, slow down!" Jasper called as they slid around a corner. "Stop pushing so hard, these people are –"

"Are lying to us," Clarke snapped. She was bent over a body, inspecting a gunshot wound. "That's a bullet wound. Grounders don't use guns."

"Unless the grounders got the guns from us." Jasper didn't sound convinced of his own words.

"Incoming," Cheyenne warned from the doorway.

"I don't think so. I think our people are alive out there." Clarke's voice was breathless and hopeful.

A surge of that same hope bloomed into Cheyenne's stomach. Then Dr. Tsing's voice sounded in the room. She stared at the woman, hate buzzing under her skin and in her head like white noise.

"Get them out of here!"

Three others in hazmat suits were leading a man covered in radiation burns into the room.

They were escorted out of medical and back to the dorm. The rest of the campers were already at breakfast, and Jasper went ahead to follow them. His attitude toward Clarke's suspicion made Cheyenne angrier than she already was. The dark, shadowy corners of her mind fed off the anger and pain she was amassing. She could see flashes of gray in the corner of her eyes, reminding her of the pain the Ark had caused her and the blood that dripped from her hands. She paced along one of the bunk beds, wiping the palms of her hands against her pants.

"I'm going to talk to Wallace," Clarke finally said. She stood from the bunk she'd been thinking on.

"Alone?" Cheyenne stopped pacing to pay attention.

"Yeah, I want to go alone. Go, get something to eat. I'll be back soon, hopefully with some information."

Cheyenne stopped Clarke by grabbing onto her hand before she could get too far. "Clarke…" Panic was surging into her chest at the thought of being alone. The walls were already pressing in against her, shoving her in all directions. She wanted Clarke to stay. She wanted Bellamy. It wasn't healthy for her to be alone.

"Annie, it's going to be okay. I'm going to make it okay." Clarke put a hand on either of Cheyenne's arms and gave her a strained smile. "You'll see me again and you'll see Bellamy again. You're still something, I promise."

If I'm not his, then what am I? Her own words slammed around in her head, pinging around like an antique pinball game she'd seen at the exchange back on the Ark. Tears welled in her eyes. Cheyenne nodded, letting Clarke know she'd heard her loud and clear. Clarke was her best friend. She could trust her, just like she could trust Bellamy.

The older girl left to talk to Dante, but Cheyenne couldn't bring herself to go to the mess hall. Instead, she pulled herself onto the bunk she'd shared with Clarke the night before and stared up at the ceiling.

Campers filtered into the dorm, talking and horsing around, once breakfast was over. Instead of infiltrating himself into the madness, Miller pulled himself up onto the bunk with Cheyenne and sat at her feet. They were quiet for so long that he was beginning to think she had been sleeping with her eyes open. Finally, she spoke so quietly that he had to strain to hear her.

"I think they killed my baby."

"What?" Miller's entire body jerked at her words as if they physically slammed into him.

"I think Dr. Tsing killed my baby," Cheyenne reiterated. Her voice and face were void of emotion. She had been thinking about it since she'd left the decontamination floor.

"You were pregnant?" Miller asked incredulously. "How is that even possible? I mean, I assumed you were sleeping with Blake, but –"

Cheyenne pulled herself up to sit with her legs crossed. Miller mirrored her, leaning forward so their heads were close together. She didn't want to talk to anyone but Clarke about this, but Clarke had to focus on getting them out. Cheyenne had to get this out of her head, needed someone to validate her thoughts. She felt unhinged without Bellamy at her side to guide her or hold her in the night. She hadn't seen him in three days and already she felt like she was losing the bits of herself he'd given back.

"I never got the birth control implant. There was never a need to give me one. Murderers don't get reviewed at eighteen." Cheyenne ran stiff hands through her hair, knowing the blood on them was smearing into the strands and staining them red. "I was only four weeks along."

Miller was silent. He didn't know what to say to that. He didn't think there was much he could say to that. "Why do you think she had something to do with it?"

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, I just… I can feel it. I just know. There's something wrong with this place."

Her eyes found Miller's and he could see the pain behind the hollow gaze she pinned him with. He believed her. He told her as much. "I don't know what we can really do about it, though. This place is a fortress."

"Clark is already working on it."

They returned to silence, letting the sound of the others filter up around them. It was a long time before either spoke again.

"I'm sorry about your baby," Miller said quietly.

"Don't be." Cheyenne swallowed hard. "I'm going to make Dr. Tsing sorry enough for everyone."

Jasper followed Clarke closely as she walked into the dorm. Miller sat on the bunk below Cheyenne, reading a book he had found while she sat envisioning the different ways she was going to inflict pain on the doctor. Clarke leaned against the nightstand next to the bunk and faced Jasper.

"Well, maybe because it is an arrow wound," Jasper said.

"Or that's what they want us to think." At his incredulous look, she made a face. "What? They could have doctored it."

"Clarke, you sound like a crazy person." His words of exasperation made Cheyenne bristle. "Why do you want to screw this up for us?"

"I don't know what this is," Clarke said, stressing "this" to get her point across.

Jasper didn't get it. "This is… safe. This is food, a real bed, clothes, and my personal favorite – not getting speared by grounders. How long do you think they'll let us stay here if you keep this up?"

"Did someone threaten you?" Clarke asked seriously, straightening up.

"No, no, it's common sense." He paused for a second before continuing. "Look, we're guests here, not prisoners. What would you do with a guest who kept calling you a liar and generally acted like an ungrateful ass?"

"Kick the ungrateful ass out," Miller chimed in.

"Right now, the biggest threat to us is you." Jasper almost walked away but turned to look at Cheyenne on the top bunk. "And you, I think."

Cheyenne's eyes met his and for once, she was glad most people found her eyes intimidating. "You want to say that again?"

"Annie," Clarke warned, "don't, please. I can't do that again."

Her jaw tightened but she looked away obediently.

The dorm emptied out a little while later. Everyone was gone to a rec room of some kind, but Cheyenne had opted to stay. Occasionally, someone would come in or out, but she paid no attention to them. All she could focus on was the death waging a war in her mind.

When she thought of Bellamy, she tried to focus on the way it felt when he kissed her, when he curled around her while they slept. She refused to let the dark shadows in her mind morph his face into a bloody mess, or his beautiful brown eyes into dead, gray sockets that were hollowing with decay.

When she thought of the baby that could have been, no image could come into her mind. She had never been able to see an ultrasound or hear a heartbeat. Clarke had told her that it was no more than a little dot, not even a baby yet, but the loss still stuffed her chest too tight, made her want to pick at her flesh and tear it away and watch herself bleed.

When she thought of Dr. Tsing, all she could see was death. She would kill her if it was the last thing she ever did.

Clarke walking into the dorm room knocked her out of the thoughts that tore at her mind. She was moving with intent, checking the edge of each bunk before coming to the one Cheyenne was sitting on. Her pretty blue eyes met Cheyenne's and the grim determination in them had the younger girl narrowing her eyes.

"What's the plan?" she asked.

Clarke pursed her lips. "Only patients are allowed in medical." She pulled off the bandage that covered the stitches that decorated her soft flesh. "I need to find out what they're doing to Langston. I need to go to medical."

Before she could talk her out of it, Clarke was dragging her stitches down the sharp metal of the bunk bed. Dark red blood welled out of the injury spilling around the sides of her forearm and dripping onto the bed below. She looked back up at Cheyenne, panting in pain. Cheyenne nodded.

"I trust you, Clarke."


	4. Chapter 3

Day 33

"Will you please eat something?" Miller groused, shoveling food into his own mouth. "If Bellamy finds out I'm letting you starve, he's going to kill me ten times slower than he's already going to just for me talking to you."

Cheyenne rolled her eyes but took a bite of the food in front of her. Grudgingly, she admitted that it was good. Eating their food, wearing their clothes, sleeping in their beds – all of it made her skin crawl. She would give anything to be back in camp with dirty clothes in a pile on the floor, pressed against Bellamy's warm skin, and chewing on a handful of fresh berries and the best cut of meat from the kill that he gave to her. Then she remembered what she had already given to these people. It was time something was given back.

"Bet it doesn't taste nearly as good as he does, huh?"

Water sprayed out of her mouth in surprise, misting the table in front of them and drawing eyes in their direction. The joke caught her off guard. She laughed hard, the hardest she had laughed since before camp had gone to shit with the grounder war. Cheyenne hated him for making her laugh when all she wanted to do was kill every person in that mountain.

"Hey, have either of you seen Clarke this morning?" Monty asked, sliding into the seat across from them.

"No, man, sorry," Miller said, shaking his head. "Not since yesterday."

Cheyenne stayed silent, having no desire to speak to the boy across from her. She could feel his stare as he waited for an answer.

"She hasn't seen her either," Miller finally answered on her behalf.

Monty didn't believe him but took the answer anyway. He spotted Jasper and Maya in the hall and was gone. Miller fixed Cheyenne with a look. She ignored him, too.

Blending in was easy for Cheyenne. She had been blending in, hiding in plain sight, for her entire life. On the Ark, she had learned early as a child that if her father didn't see her, he couldn't talk to her, and if he couldn't talk to her, he couldn't hurt her feelings. Then she had learned not to have any feelings.

In the forest, she could slide through the trees like a ghost. She wasn't seen if she didn't want to be seen. In the dropship camp, she had been able to keep her head down and her business to herself, despite being romantically involved with the most popular man around. Her crime was well known, but her face wasn't, and she had been able to avoid the social backlash of it altogether.

So, it came as naturally as breathing to do the same in Mount Weather. She kept her mouth shut and her head down. She spoke exclusively to Miller and sometimes a girl named Harper that he introduced her to. She ate protein packed foods and tried to exercise where she could. And while everyone slept, she drew on her bed rails with the blood that ran from her fingers in rivulets and imagined the way she would kill every person that drew breath in the mountain that buried them.

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Day 36

Cheyenne stared hard at Jasper, barely restraining herself from ramming her fist into his face. Her eyes made him shudder when they looked into his. It felt like she was staring past his soul and into his own nothingness. They were pretty, and green, and blank like a walking dead girl. He regretted sitting across from her instead of Miller.

"I guess if you're really sure this is the only way," Miller agreed. "Just until Clarke gets us out of here."

Jasper and Monty looked to Cheyenne for an answer. They had already recruited Harper to volunteer her blood, but everyone other than she and Miller had said no. Things were uncomfortably tense and silent between the three of them. Miller had become accustomed to her prolonged silences over the time they spent together in the mountain. He wasn't bothered by waiting for her to speak, though Jasper fidgeted uncomfortably next to Monty.

"No." Cheyenne's voice was cold, like the ice that was slowly creeping around her heart and chilling her from everything around her. She had already come to terms with the realization that Bellamy and Clarke were probably dead, just like her baby. "I've already bled for these people. I'm still bleeding for these people. The next time I see Dr. Tsing, I'll kill her."

"But – but I thought you would want to help us. You're Clarke's friend. Why wouldn't you want to do your part to help save us?" Jasper asked, frustrated and upset, mostly at himself.

"Jasper, don't do that," Miller warned, shaking his head. "It's her choice."

"Yeah, but – "

"Let me clarify something for you," Cheyenne started lowly, her cold, dead eyes drilling holes into Jasper's. "I don't know you, or anyone else stuck in this hole with us. I don't care about you, or anyone else. Clarke is either dead or stuck somewhere else in here, and Bellamy is probably dead. I don't give a damn if you drop dead right here. Go fuck yourself. That's my part to save us."

She got to her feet, but her hand was grabbed before she could take a step. Jasper had grabbed her. He felt brave when he reached for her, but then he realized how stupid he was.

"Get your hand off of me before you don't have a hand anymore."

For the first time since he met her, Miller could see the girl that had slaughtered five people on the Ark. He had to get her out of this mountain before she brought it down on all of them.


	5. Chapter 4

Day 40

Cheyenne was lying on the top bunk, fingernails scraping against the metal bed frame. Her nails had grown out and reshaped from the jagged mess they'd been at camp. The noise they made against the metal soothed her fevered mind, the mind that called for Lorelei Tsing's blood. She had been festering in her hatred and despair for ten days, and the call for blood had never been stronger. The men she'd killed on the Ark had humiliated her, harmed her, made her weak and helpless, left her lying naked and cold after violating her very being, but that was nothing compared to what Dr. Tsing had taken from her. The barely-there fetus growing inside of her had been her only connection left to the man that had pulled her from the gray of the Ark and washed the blood from her hands. Miller's voice pulled her from her thoughts, but not her darkness.

"Cheyenne, come look at this," Miller called from the bunk below. A space was open beside him and Monty was on his other side.

"What is this?" she asked, looking at the paper after dropping into the open space next to him.

Miller unfolded the paper for them to ponder. "We found it when we broke into Dante's office last night. And we also found pictures. Alpha station made it to the ground. If Alpha station is on the ground, maybe others are, too."

"You're from Alpha station, right?" Monty asked.

"My dad was Chief Guard." He paused, shaking his head slightly. "He sure loved having a thief for a kid."

"Hey, you're a great thief," Monty praised with a laugh. He motioned to the paper that Cheyenne was still looking at. "These are the engineering schematics for this whole place. If there's a way out, I'm going to find it."

"Did…" Cheyenne cut herself off, unable to voice the question.

Miller read her mind. "We didn't see them specifically."

Cheyenne went back to the bunk above. She knew Miller was going to follow her, but she was surprised when he laid down facing her. He looked squarely at her, staring directly into her eyes.

"I didn't lie to you back at camp, and I'm not going to lie to you now. It looks bad, they might be dead, but you just don't know." Miller paused for a second, trying to think of the right words to get through to her or if there even were any. "You lost your baby. But if Bellamy is out there, and you walk out of here dead, he's going to have lost you and his baby. He doesn't even know yet."

The thought that Bellamy could be out there fighting with Clarke to get them out of the mountain had occurred to her, but the thought that Bellamy might be out there fighting for her and a baby that didn't exist anymore made her chest feel like it was getting ripped open with someone's bare hands. Miller left when she was silent. Cheyenne turned his words over and over again in her mind, weighing them and pushing them and shredding them and reassembling them in every way possible. Bellamy could be out there, drowning in grief at the thought of her death, or tearing apart the very Earth to find her, or writing her off as a lost cause and finding a new woman to spend his nights with. Bellamy could be out there crying himself to sleep every night and reveling in the thought of slaughtering every breathing body in the mountain, just like her. She had told him that she would burn the world to the ground for him. Where was her fire? Where was her sweltering heat and the flame that melted everything it touched?

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Day 41

The seat next to Miller was open at breakfast. He was sitting with Jasper, Monty, Maya, and two others at a table to themselves. Cheyenne shoved down her aversion to human contact and sat with them anyway. Everyone but Miller looked up at her, startled.

"Octavia would be disappointed." Cheyenne turned to Miller with a light in her eyes that he hadn't seen in days. It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there. "I haven't been a very good lapdog lately."

"You're too damn lazy to be a lapdog," Miller teased, bumping his shoulder into hers. He ignored the way she shrunk away slightly. It would take her time to get back to herself. "Always sitting around, waiting for me to come keep you company."

The others watched the exchange with interest but didn't comment. Cheyenne fell silent again, and the day carried on as normal with the presence of an extra person. While she still didn't really acknowledge anyone but Miller, her support was there. She wanted out of this place that had become her tomb. She was going to be okay, and she was going to hold herself together because she had someone to live for and his name was Bellamy Blake. He had saved her once. It was her turn to save herself, even if the only reason she could scrounge up was to save herself for him.

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Day 43

There was nothing she could do to help with the radio plan. She couldn't swing the sledgehammer through the wall. She couldn't splice wires or do anything every remotely close to the technical things needed. She couldn't do the recording, but only because Jasper had selfishly called that for himself. Miller brought her along anyway.

Cheyenne watched Miller smash through the concrete wall to reveal a panel of jumbled wires. According to Monty, they weren't jumbled. He worked in the hole for what felt like forever before finally, he was finished. Then he broke the bad news.

"Our message is broadcasting, but it's over a jammed frequency," he explained.

"Then unjam it," Miller said dryly.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Monty turned back to the device they'd rigged. "It looks like the only way to shut it down is from the source. I need five minutes in the command center."

"No way, you heard Maya, it's too dangerous," Jasper said. His hand that held the flashlight shook slightly.

The door opened and Maya's voice echoed in the tall room. "The guard's coming, we have to go! Cover the hole!"

She came around the corner quickly moving to help, while Cheyenne stayed out of the way. They had the hole covered in seconds, and then she was following Miller's back down the twists and turns of a hallway. She made it back to the dorm room on his heels but had no idea how they got there.

"Where the hell did we just come from?"

"How can you run around the forest like some kind of deer but not learn a few hallways?" Miller asked incredulously.

Cheyenne shrugged. "Everything looks different in the forest. This all kind of blends together."

Maya and Jasper came into the dorm a few seconds later. Miller turned up the radio next to them.

"Did they find the radio?" Miller put his hands on two different bunks, leaning a little toward the couple.

"No," Jasper answered. He looked around. "Where's Monty?"

"I thought he was with you," Miller said with a shrug.

They both looked at Maya. "I haven't seen him," she admitted quietly.

Cheyenne pulled herself onto her bunk, ignoring Miller's hand that gripped the railing next to her. "He went to the command center," she said, bending down to unlace her tennis shoes. All three looked at her. She shrugged. "He said it himself – he needed to go there, so, why wouldn't he?"

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Day 45

Jasper paced the end of the bunk bed, running his hands through his hair. His constant movement was driving Cheyenne insane. Miller sat on the bunk below hers having the same thoughts. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"You were less annoying when you were dying," she snapped, sitting up to glare at him.

"Well, I was also unconscious when I was dying," Jasper responded.

Maya finally made it into the dorm, but the shake of her head only made him pace harder. She pulled him out of the dorm to go to breakfast. Miller sighed in relief once they were gone, finally able to think without Jasper's frantic footsteps and muttering.

Cheyenne laid back on her bed, trying not to think about the soft brush of furs and the warmth of Bellamy's skin. She had been trying too hard not to think about him, to focus on the anger and injustice boiling inside of her flesh. Then Miller had helped himself to flay open the little emotional control she had like a cut of meat. There was a hole in her chest that only Bellamy could fill. His face and his kiss and his hands and he had been dancing in her mind ever since. On the Ark, she never had anyone. On Earth, she had been a hair's breath away from having something to call her own. On the Ark, she went to sleep hoping to never wake up. On Earth, she had fallen asleep each night, happy that another morning was on its way. In Mount Weather, she didn't want to sleep at all. She wanted to walk the halls in the dead of night and kill every person she saw until the tomb was empty just like her.

Bits and pieces of her were starting to break off, more and more each time she lost a bit of him. She was beginning to forget the way his voice rumbled in her ear when he spoke, the way his face was peaceful in the morning sunlight when she woke up first, the way he looked covered in his own blood and so, so beautiful and so, so alive, the way his hands had felt searing into her skin down to the bone, marking her as his. The mirror in the communal bathroom mocked her, laughing and screaming and smearing blood onto the glass while she watched with eyes so dead they could have been in a doll. Her face was pale, though not gaunt, and her eye sockets were heavy with bruises from her inability to sleep. Cheyenne would lay awake at night until exhaustion overcame her, only to wake gasping for breath with invisible hands wrapped too tight around her throat and cracking open her chest to squeeze her heart into nothing. She would slip down to the bunk below her and crawl into Miller's bed to curl in on herself. He was not who she wanted next to her, but he was warm and he was safe, so he would have to do. Careful never to touch her, Miller would pretend he slept through her coming and going, pretend like she was never even there in the first place.

Jasper's voice sucked her out of her own head by triggering her annoyance from that morning. She sat up too quickly, her head spinning from vertigo to glare at him.

"Alright, listen up! There's going to be questions, but there's no time. We're getting out of here, so pack your stuff."

"What are you talking about?" asked one of the younger girls. Everyone had stepped forward and gone quiet at the commotion.

"What, they're just letting us go?" Miller demanded, his voice colored with skepticism.

"Yes, right now, before they change their minds," Jasper said urgently.

The same girl from before spoke up again. "But, Jasper, what the hell is going on?"

"They lied to us, the whole time, about everything. The Ark is on the ground, and we're…"

Monty was still speaking but Cheyenne couldn't hear anything. Her ears were ringing, and there was no air in her chest, and her heart had stopped beating altogether. She was seeing a ghost dressed in a Mount Weather guard's uniform, standing next to Maya at the end of the hall. Her body was too cold and too hot and she wanted to scream but she couldn't find the will to open her mouth. All she could do was stare into beautiful brown eyes. When the alarm blared out and the doors shut, something inside of her head snapped.


	6. Chapter 5

Day 46

Miller had been sitting on his bunk watching her pace in front of the double doors for nearly two hours. When the doors first closed, Cheyenne had flown at them in a frenzied rage. She had beaten both of her fists bloody on the metal doors, screaming Dr. Tsing's name. The other delinquents had stared at her in a mix of awe and terror, all of them remembering the day of the hurricane when she had goaded Raven Reye's into attacking her and the screaming match that had followed. Only Bellamy had been able to stop her then, and there was no Bellamy there now. Then, like a switch had been flipped, she sat in silence on the floor next to the door, barely breathing and making no noise.

This was different than the silence on the top floor of the dropship, though. Miller could feel her presence in the room like a shadow, snarling and scratching to get out. She was a caged animal. She was the girl that had committed five counts of gruesome homicide. She was no longer the girl that followed Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin around like a broken soul being stitched back together by caring hands and encouraging words.

Every few hours, guards would open the doors, dressed riot gear, and haul one of them away. Still, she made no sound or no movements. If it weren't for the slight rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought she was dead with her eyes open.

Jasper approached her slowly, nearly stumbling back when she rested her gaze on him. Her eyes were not empty or green anymore. They were bloodthirsty and filled with death. The added sight of her hands resting in small pools of blood from her knuckles made the hair on his neck stand up. Her voice was hoarse from screaming when she finally acknowledged him.

"What do you want?"

"Did… did you see him, too?" Jasper asked timidly.

An animal had come to life within her and the smell of his fear made it froth at the mouth. "Choose your next words carefully, Jasper."

Jasper swallowed hard. "I saw him, too. At the end of the hallway, with Maya. He was dressed like a guard."

"So, he was real," she said slowly, mostly to herself. Her eyes drifted off to the side, cogs working in her mind. If he was real, then he was in danger. Her insides burned like too cold water.

"Yeah, yeah, he was," Jasper assured her. "Come – come on, let's go over here. We should be with the others, and you should let Miller wrap up your hands."

Cheyenne looked down at her hands. Her clothes were surprisingly free of blood, save for a few smears here and there, but the skin of her knuckles was torn open. They were already bruising a deep purple color. It reminded her of the shapes of Bellamy's hands that had marked her biceps the day of the hurricane when he shook the life back into her just before the storm. Slowly, she nodded and followed Jasper over to Miller. She sat down obediently when he patted the space beside him and ripped up a pillowcase to wrap her hands.

"Bellamy is here. We're getting rescued," Jasper said plainly. He looked at Cheyenne for encouragement but she was staring at the blood smearing her hands. "We've got to bide our time until he gets word to us."

"We've been locked up for hours," Miller said skeptically. "If it was Bellamy –"

"It was Bellamy," Cheyenne snapped. She didn't bother to look up from Miller's hands that were wrapping her own.

"It doesn't make any sense," Monty said, moving closer to Jasper.

"I know what I saw." Jasper's voice was stern. He had seen Bellamy and so had Cheyenne.

An alarm wailed overhead, and the doors opened again. Jasper called out before they could leave with another but the words all became a blur because the sound of Dr. Tsing's voice filled her head. Miller saw the change in her muscles and grabbed hard to the busted skin of her knuckles. The pain was sharp, distracting her from lashing out at the doctor. It gave the guards just enough time to shut the door before she'd recovered from her recoil of pain.

"You attacking them unarmed and outgunned isn't going to help Bellamy."

Cheyenne ground her teeth together tight enough to feel pain in her jaw. "It will help Bellamy when I kill every damn living thing in this mountain, including you if you get in my way again."

They lapsed back into silence.

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Day 47

Cheyenne stood just behind the others linked together by their arms, her eyes on Dr. Tsing. The doctor picked the girl next to her, but the older woman's gaze met Cheyenne's. She didn't look uncomfortable as she had the first time they met. The guards broke up the line effortlessly, and that was all the prompting Cheyenne needed. In the commotion, she sidestepped one of the guards grabbing the girl and rammed herself into the next to knock him off balance. He stumbled and she reached out for Dr. Tsing's hair when her own was caught in a fist and jerked back.

The familiar deep voice made her spine tingle and her eyes fill with water and her bottom lip tremble. "Fight harder," he ground into her ear before turning her around and shoving her ruthlessly into the crowd.

Jasper met her eyes once the room had emptied. Cheyenne glanced down to the handgun gripped too tightly in his fists. She was going to turn this mountain red, just as she had turned the Ark red so long ago.

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The other kids were linked up again. Cheyenne stood next to Miller, behind the first string. Her hand gripped onto a pole taken from one of the beds, one of its ends flattened to make an edge that would cut. The rest of the kids around her were trying to defend themselves, filled with fear of death. She was trying to kill. There was no fear in her body, only the thirst of the animal in her chest. Dr. Tsing pointed out Monty. As he was wrestled away from the line, Jasper pulled out the gun Bellamy had given him. Just as Cheyenne instructed him, he aimed for beside the vest, into the soft flesh of the shoulder.

The room erupted into chaos. Keeping a little lower than the rest of the campers around her, she lashed out with the metal in her hand, thrusting it hard into the guard Jasper had shot. It ripped through the flesh and she grunted with the effort to push it through muscle and tendon and bone. Jerking it out, she ignored the blood that splashed onto her clothes and moved to the next. This time, it was below the vest and above the pants, slipping softly into the meat of his stomach. There was more blood when she removed the foreign object from inside the man's flesh. Excitement flooded her as the animal within reveled in the sight of blood staining her hands. Then the pole was removed from her hands and she was held in a chokehold by a baton.

Dr. Tsing commanded them to take Jasper instead and to search the room for weapons. Cheyenne stilled in the guard's arms, listening to his ragged breathing. Dr. Tsing was out of the room when the guard cried out, sounding like he was struggling to get air. It was easy for her to push him away and swipe up the shank she made, sprinting toward the elevator. Jasper was already there, holding the elevator door and yelling for the others to grab their guns. He said something to the doctor on the floor, but she didn't hear it. Cheyenne pushed passed him and didn't hesitate in driving her shank down into Dr. Tsing's throat. The smile on her face was twisted.

The world fell away from her. All that existed was the sound of the containment breach alarms, her, and Dr. Tsing's body. She jerked the pole back from the doctor's neck and used both hands to stab into her chest, over and over and over. Jasper, Miller, Monty, and Harper watched on, unable to look away. Tears dripped from her eyes and blood sprayed her face and neck and clothes. The only thing in her eyes was the red covering Dr. Tsing's long dead body.

"Cheyenne," Miller called softly from the elevator door. "Cheyenne, she'd dead."

The shank clattered to the ground as the younger girl stumbled away from the body. Her arms shook with the effort she expended, and the blood was smearing as she used the back of her forearm to wipe the sweat on her forehead. She felt Miller's hand on her shoulder and turned to look at him. He wasn't afraid, even after he had seen her lose control, and that made it a little easier to breathe. After a shaky breath, she squared her shoulders and shook herself out of the haze of bloodlust. There were still more mountain men to kill.

"Do you feel better?" he finally asked, once she'd let the elevator door close on the doctor's body.

"Better? I'm already ready to go again." She laughed at her own sick joke, the first time she had laughed in days. "Let's go."

After snatching an extra hair tie from Harper, Cheyenne tugged her hair up into a ponytail. Her hands smeared blood into the strands. Instead of wiping it away, she used it to smear on her face like war paint, exactly as she had after cutting Keegan Grady's throat from ear to ear. The blood soaking into her skin made her feel beautiful. The delinquents barricaded level five and settled in to wait.

A distant explosion had everyone on their feet. The mountain men hammered at the door before the knock out gas was tossed in and the barricade was knocked down. Jasper's yell started the assault. Excitement burned in her veins. The knife Cheyenne had grabbed from the kitchens was dripping with the blood of the mountain men. Too soon they began to retreat. Now, her face wasn't the only one splattered in blood. She stood next to Miller when Jasper swung the ax down on a guard that was still alive. After a few moments of tense silence, she stepped up next to the younger boy and put her small hand on his shoulder.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

Jasper swallowed hard. "Yeah, it does."

Cheyenne stepped back to Miller when Jasper started barking orders to the others. She looked up at him, while he looked hard at her. She was soaked in the blood of the mountain men and she was brimming with death, but she looked alive for the first time since they had woken up in a tomb.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," she answered honestly, "but I'm getting there. How about you?"

"I'm… I'm good. I'm ready to go home," Miller said with a nod.

"Me too," Cheyenne admitted. The image of her home came unbidden to her mind – a man with beautiful brown eyes and curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. Yeah, she thought to herself, she was ready to go home.


	7. Chapter 6

Day 48

"They're going to come in a lot hotter next time; you know that, right?" Miller asked Jasper, leaning on the table with both hands.

Jasper didn't react. "All we got to do is hold the floor until Bellamy finds a way out."

"We're going to need more than a bucket of water and four guns to do that." Miller glanced around at the others making more weapons and cleaning up the bodies.

Cheyenne was about to comment, but the radio buzzing cut her off. "This is President Wallace talking to the people who just killed ten of my men. I thought we'd try something a little different this time."

Monty called Jasper's name before handing him the screen he rigged to show the hallways cams. A person in a hazmat suit was being held at gunpoint near the elevator, and Cheyenne knew immediately by Jasper's reaction that this was Maya.

"There's only twenty minutes of oxygen in Maya's suit. I know she's a friend of yours. In twenty minutes, your friend will either suffocate or burn. But you can save her. All you have to do is surrender."

Everyone stared at Jasper, watching his eyes fill with water. Maya was let into the mess hall with them, incredibly out of place in the light blue suit. Cheyenne stayed with Miller, both watching as Jasper, Maya, and Monty knelt together on the floor. Things were tense around them until Monty put a hand on Maya's and took off. Jasper looked over his shoulder at Miller.

"Go help him."

Miller nodded and called for Harper. He squeezed Cheyenne's arm slightly before leaving her alone. She didn't stay idle, instead moved over to Jasper and Maya. Cheyenne crouched next to them.

"Where is Bellamy?" she asked, her eyes glaring holes into Maya. The other girl recoiled at the sight of all the blood. "Is he okay?"

"He's getting guns for you through the trash chute," she reiterated the same thing she told the others. "He saved Fox."

"I don't care about Fox." Cheyenne pulled herself back to her feet, making a bee-line for Monty, Miller, and Harper. If Bellamy was coming through that trash chute, she would be there waiting.

Nineteen minutes later, Bellamy booted open the trash chute. He didn't crawl all the way out, but his upper half looked up at the campers gathered around him. Then he found her. She was soaked in blood. Dried and flaking, it was covering her from hands to elbows and was smeared on her face and in her hair. Splats of it decorated her light-colored clothes. There were bags under her eyes that told him she wasn't sleeping. Cheyenne was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He couldn't look away from her, even as Maya was pushed past him into the trash chute.

"Bellamy, go!" Jasper bellowed in his ear.

And then he was sliding down the chute after Maya with Jasper at his back, hoping with everything in him that she was following Jasper down. Cheyenne was flush against Jasper's back as they slid down the trash chute, both barely missing the metal door closing behind them. The detangled from one another as quickly as possible, Jasper running to Maya while Cheyenne's eyes fought to adjust to the darkness around them. She started to cry when she finally laid eyes on him. Bellamy's arms wrapped around her in the muted light, holding her as tightly as he could to his chest. The Kevlar vest dug into her through her clothes, but she didn't care. He was real, he was there, and he had come back for her just like he promised in the dropship so many weeks before.

The rise and fall of his chest brought heat back into her flesh. The thumping of his heart beneath her ear chased out the white noise plaguing her head. Her world went from nothingness to everything all at once with the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. The demons dancing in the darkness of her mind were chased out by the light that blazed from his beautiful brown eyes, the eyes that belonged to the man that pulled her back from the brink of self-destruction.

"It's okay, baby, I'm here now, everything's going to be okay," he soothed, rocking her gently on their feet. Her quiet cries and sniffs barely made it out of the material of his shirt, but he felt the shake of her shoulders and the tears soaking into him. "I've got you, baby, just breathe."

Maya's father barged through the doorway nearest to them, startling everyone in the small area. While Bellamy recognized him, Cheyenne only saw a mountain man, just like all the rest. Her tears were replaced with white-hot anger that zipped under her skin. She pushed away from Bellamy, grabbing for the knife she had tucked into her back pocket only to come up empty-handed. Bellamy's hands found her shoulders as he got between them.

"Whoa, whoa, it's okay, he's a friend," he said placatingly.

Her cold green eyes, red and puffy from tears narrowed onto Maya's father and Maya, locked into a hug. "No one in this God-forsaken tomb is our friend, Bellamy," she sneered.

Jasper pushed past Cheyenne to pull Bellamy into a quick hug. Once Jasper was done, Bellamy grabbed Cheyenne's arm, pulling her back into his personal space. "Hey, listen to me; Clarke is coming with an army of grounders. We have to keep all of you safe until then."

"Don't tell me Finn finally got his peace talks," Jasper said with a small laugh.

"Something like that." Bellamy's hesitation told Cheyenne immediately that Finn was more than likely dead. She could hear it in his voice and see it in the tightness around his eyes. "Come on, we've got a lot of work to do." He grabbed Cheyenne's hand, linking their fingers together despite all the blood dried onto her skin.

Cheyenne stayed right next to Bellamy as the delinquents crept down the hallways of Mount Weather. She didn't care if the ceiling caved in on them right there, nothing was going to make her leave his side. She wondered absently if there was a destination to their journey, but then realized she didn't care. Bellamy was right there, right next to her, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body and smell the sweat clinging to his skin.

"Won't they see us?" Miller asked quietly from just behind Cheyenne.

"Relax, Maya took out the cameras." He lowered his gun once they were moving down the hallways.

"Yeah, well, we're still sitting ducks in a group like this," Miller said bitterly.

"You're right." Bellamy glanced over at Cheyenne and she could see the guilt on his face. "So, we're going to split up."

"What?" she demanded.

Monty was the next to disagree. "No! We do this together, we survive together."

Bellamy stopped, halting the entire group just before a corner. Jasper turned to Monty, supporting Bellamy's words.

"They don't trust Maya anymore. Who the hell's going to help us now?" Miller asked, looking from Bellamy to Jasper.

"They are." Bellamy moved them around the corner.

Residents of the mountain stood in a small group, clustered behind Maya and her father. Maya walked forward a few steps when she saw Jasper.

"We're going to hide you," she announced. "Not everyone here agrees with Cage, not by a long shot."

"Come with me, we'll divide you along the way," her father called, waving them forward.

Cheyenne's hand latched onto Bellamy's sleeve when everyone behind them began to move forward. She stepped closer to him, though she didn't have to worry much about the other's touching her as they went by. After her outbursts, the other campers excluding Miller and Jasper had been giving her a wide berth. Miller, Jasper, and Monty lingered behind with Maya waiting for them a few feet down the hall.

"Hey, we're coming with you," Jasper announced.

"No, you're not," Bellamy said sternly. "They still don't know I'm here. I need to keep it that way."

"So, what do we do?" Monty asked, glancing around.

"Stay alive. Be ready to fight." He looked at the four of them gravely. "War is coming."

Bellamy met Cheyenne's eyes, an apology in his. "Bellamy, wait!" she cried out. Her hand caught his and it broke his heart to see her crying again. "You – you can't leave me again, I'm not – Bellamy, I'm not right anymore. There's something wrong with me." Her voice had tapered off to a whisper at the end, but it was still easily heard by everyone in the hall.

His movements were quick but no less meaningful to her when his hand fitted around the side of her neck and his thumb rubbed gently along her jaw. "There's not a damn thing wrong with you, Cheyenne," he said lowly. The tone in his voice was rough and angry and stern. It commanded her attention and obedience and submission. She'd forgotten the way his voice made her feel and the thought of never hearing it again made her chest ache and spasm. "Go with them. Keep yourself safe. I'm going to come get you, okay? I won't leave you here again. Do you understand?"

Her eyes fluttered shut and her head had leaned into his hand. "I understand," she whispered. She would lay down on the ground and die if he told her to.

Then he was gone and the cold was creeping back into her chest and the white noise was getting louder and the darkness was coming back to swallow her whole. Miller grabbed onto her wrist, prompting her to look up at him. The tears in her eyes fell, but she no longer cried. Miller understood, then, the difference between the girl and the murderer. It was Bellamy Blake. He filled her empty shell with something worth living for because she was not enough for herself.

"Come on," Miller said, urging her forward. "We have to go, Cheyenne."

Cheyenne glanced back at the way Bellamy had gone before she followed Miller, Monty, Jasper, and Maya down the hallway.


	8. Chapter 7

Day 49

Cheyenne and Miller stayed together with an older couple while Monty and Jasper went with Maya. She felt like she was in a haze, the shock of seeing Bellamy having worn off and a hole left in its place again now that she wasn't next to him. She didn't feel the stares of Mr. and Mrs. Withers as Miller coaxed her to eat. She didn't feel their judgment when he had to encourage her to shower off all the blood caked on her skin and in her hair. She didn't care when they pulled them to various rooms multiple times to avoid the guard checking from room to room. Cheyenne followed Miller with a small hand curled into the sleeve of his shirt, looking for comfort that she wouldn't find outside of Bellamy. She was empty. As she laid next to Miller in Mr. and Mrs. Wither's guest room bed, she didn't sleep. Instead, she imagined painting the inside of the mountain with the blood of the mountain men.

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Day 50

A heavy knocking sounded on the door in the other room. Cheyenne sat up abruptly, shaking Miller awake by the shoulder. He was awake and aware in seconds. Instead of speaking, she nodded her head silently to the door that led to the great room. They could hear the low voice of Mr. Withers and another man talking. She and Miller shared a look before she rolled off and under the bed to hide. Miller slipped into the closet and pushed himself behind some old clothes.

When two guards burst into the room seconds later, Cheyenne knew they had been sold out. The shorter of the two guards looked under the end of the bed only to be met with her foot slamming into his nose. A wet crunch followed the movement along with his cry of pain. Cheyenne rolled from under the bed and sprang to her feet, glad she kept her shoes on all night. The drawer from the nightstand next to her was out with a quick pull. The larger guard batted it out of the air, but she was already ready. After ripping away the lampshade, she smashed the bulb onto the top of the nightstand and then rammed the broken end into the larger guard's throat. Blood sprayed from his throat when he gurgled. Cheyenne felt giddy when the still warm droplets landed on her face.

"Stop right there," the smaller guard demanded. His voice was nasally from his broken nose. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the side of her head. "Where's your friend hiding?"

"What friend?" Cheyenne dropped the lamp to the ground and held up her hands. Her teeth were bared in a silent snarl. Glancing down, she noted his nametag said Ropeg. "I don't have any fucking friend, asshole."

"Tell me where he's hiding or I'm going to shoot you." The sound of his voice and the way he struggled to breathe through his nose made her laugh. "What the fuck is so funny?"

"You, uh, you sound like you're having a bit of a problem there," she said, motioning slightly to her own nose.

The gun striking her across the face hurt. It was startling at first, and she cried out in surprise, not pain. Then the ache bloomed on her cheekbone. Cheyenne could feel her pulse in her face when she pressed her hand against the red mark. It was the same cheek Clarke had slapped to knock her out of her enraged frenzy to kill Dr. Tsing. Well, the jokes on you, Clarke, she thought bitterly, I killed her anyway. Miller emerged from the closet at the sound of her pained cry with his hands up in surrender. She could feel her face beginning to swell when she glared at him.

"Please, stop – we're good, just don't hit her again," Miller pleaded calmly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cheyenne demanded, turning to him and dropping her hands. The complete disregard for the death staring her in the face had alarm bells ringing in his head.

"Hey, get your hands on your head, now! Both of you!" Ropeg restrained them roughly with handcuffs before leading them out at gunpoint. "Jaxon is dead, thanks to her," he informed the other guard, Tilling, without prompting.

Jasper, Maya, and Fox were already restrained, and Miller and Cheyenne were added to the front of their group. The chains connected them all together feet to feet and hands to hands. They walked around a bend to see Maya's father standing in the middle of the hallway. Everyone stopped when Tilling stopped.

"Out of the way, Vincent," Tilling commanded calmly.

"That's my daughter," Vincent responded, shaking his head.

"Dad, don't!" Maya called out.

Tilling silenced her. "She's been aiding and abetting the outsiders. You need to get out of our way."

"I won't let you take her, Paul," Vincent said, shifting on his feet. He didn't back down.

"Listen carefully; we've got orders. She knows where they're hiding. Now, step aside. I'm not going to ask again."

Vincent denied him again. Cheyenne wondered absently how fast her father would have let them kill her. He probably would have offered to do it himself.

"Dad, please, they'll kill you," Maya said. Her voice was thick with tears.

Tilling drew his gun, a waver in his voice when he pointed it at Vincent. "Don't make me do this Vincent."

Maya started to cry when her father apologized to the man aiming a gun at his head. Then, Tilling fell to the ground, dead of a gunshot wound. Everything happened quickly after that like the entire world hit fast forward.

Vincent ran for the vent and was struggling to get it off while Ropeg ran up to the front. Miller kicked out Ropeg's knee and wrapped the chains that bound his wrists around Ropeg's neck, dragging Jasper forward. While Jasper fought to get the key off Ropeg's belt, Cheyenne crouched down to step on the chains around her wrists. She spit on the metal with as much saliva as she had before jerking with all of her might. The metal tore into the sides of her hands but she grit her teeth and didn't stop until her hands were free. She threw herself at the man on his knees, pulling Fox and Maya forward roughly. Miller barely got out of the way in time before Cheyenne was slamming Ropeg's head into the ground, stopping once she heard the wet crunch of his skull. Instead of trying to move, she looked up at Bellamy who had appeared from the vent in the wall. She swallowed hard and avoided his eyes. Cheyenne felt Bellamy's hands pull her up easily, while he asked Miller if he was okay.

"Better than you," Miller said quietly, fighting to get the chains off himself.

Cheyenne busied herself with ripping off the sleeves of her thin cardigan Mrs. Withers had given her and tying them around the gruesome scrapes on her hands. If Bellamy was surprised by her violent outburst, he didn't show it. While his eyes held concern for her, he was all business.

"You need to get everyone to the harvest chamber," Bellamy said, stepping forward to make sure the hallway perpendicular to them was empty. "You'll be safer there."

"Safe in the harvest chamber?" Jasper asked skeptically.

"Just trust me." Bellamy moved back over to them, stepping close to Cheyenne. "Are you alright?" he asked lowly.

When she nodded, he knew it was a lie. He let her have it anyway.

"Are the others there?" Jasper had finished getting his and Miller's chains off and tossed the keys to Cheyenne for her ankle shackles. "Monty?"

"Monty's with the other group on level three. Don't worry, we moved them after the last sweep," Vincent answered Jasper. He turned his head to Bellamy. "You should go there next."

Bellamy nodded, pointing to Vincent. "Alright, go on, Vincent will take you. I won't be long."

He made eye contact with Cheyenne, a silent debate in his head to make her go with him or go with the others. It was answered for him when Cheyenne stepped up next to him.

"Be careful, Miller." She nodded at the boy who had become her friend and helped her more than he knew while stuck in the mountain. He nodded back.

"Hey," Jasper called. "I'm coming with you."

"Jasper –"

"I promised I'd protect them," Jasper cut him off, "that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Bellamy looked from him to Cheyenne for a few tense seconds before nodding. "Let's go."

Cheyenne was right behind his elbow as they took off. They had to stop shortly after starting to wait for Jasper and Maya. Bellamy turned to her, grabbing her above the elbow and looking down at her with those beautiful brown eyes. She stepped into him, wrapping her hands around the straps of his Kevlar vest as his mouth came down on hers. His kiss was desperate and hungry, full of pent up lust and anger. Bellamy's large hands gripped her waist, pushing her back toward the wall and gently into it. They broke apart, his forehead resting against hers and they both fought to catch their breath.

They separated entirely aside from his hand twisting with hers when Jasper and Maya caught up. Bellamy led them down a few hallways and into a vent. Cheyenne didn't like the vents. They reminded her far too much of cold, grey halls on the Ark. After what seemed like forever, Bellamy shoved on a vent cover and emerged into a hall. He helped Cheyenne out before pulling her slightly behind him.

"Don't have much time," Bellamy announced. "The last twelve are on this level."

"Including Monty. Which way?" Jasper asked, pulling Maya out of the vent behind him.

"This way," she said, pointing down a hall.

An announcement over the PA made everyone stop. Cheyenne lingered in the direction Maya had pointed, watching Bellamy closely while he paced to another hallway to look in either direction. Instead of listening to them all talk, she tried to think about how she was going to tell him about the baby. Miller's words had been screaming in her head ever since she had laid eyes on him again. He doesn't even know yet. A gunshot and the sound of yelling drifted down the hallway. Bellamy took off at a run toward the sound and the rest of them followed. He slowed around a corner, throwing his arm out to stop Jasper.

"Slow, slow, be ready for anything," Bellamy warned quietly. He looked at Cheyenne standing weaponless next to Maya. "Stay with me."

They moved forward to the sight of a dead body and a closing door.

"It's Mrs. Ryan," Maya breathed, heading for the body.

"She was hiding the last twelve," Bellamy said.

"Where did they take them?" Jasper asked, looking from Bellamy to Maya.

Maya was quiet before she answered. "It's got to be level five."

Jasper rushed for the door, but Bellamy moved between it and him. "Get out of my way," Jasper demanded.

"Every person inside this mountain is on level five," Bellamy stressed. "Every soldier. Tell him."

Cheyenne looked at the door Bellamy was blocking with his body. If she walked through that door, she could paint the mountain red. She wanted to paint the mountain red. She wanted to make the mountain a tomb for every mountain man that had ever breathed. They all deserved to die. Bellamy's demand for her to follow snapped her out of her daze, and she did as she was told. They sprinted through the halls, now with Monty at their side. Cheyenne's tennis shoes squeaked against the floor when they stopped.

The harvest chamber was empty.

Bellamy backed away from where the harvest chamber opened into the rooms of cages. Cheyenne saw the tenseness in his body just before he lashed out. He kicked one of the cage doors with a shout. There was a helplessness in his eyes, the look of detrimental failure as he slammed his fist into one of the double doors. Cheyenne crept close to him and pressed her hand onto his forearm in comfort, just as she had done so long ago on Unity Day. His eyes met hers when she whispered his name.

"It's over, Cheyenne," he whispered. His voice was broken. "I let them die."

"You didn't let me die." Cheyenne felt his fingers brush along her bruised cheek. Even the lightest touch made her face feel hot like molten lava was under her skin. "Ropeg hit me with his gun."

"You were covered in blood when I found you." Bellamy looked over to see Jasper consoling Maya and wanted to give her another minute. He knew what it felt like to lose a parent unexpectedly. "What happened?"

Cheyenne shrugged slightly and dropped her eyes down. She couldn't tell him that she had planned to kill as many mountain men as she could before they killed her. She couldn't tell him that she was avenging his unborn baby, or that she wanted to die until she saw his face again. He doesn't even know yet. The thought cracked through her chest and into her heart.

"There's something… Bellamy, we need to – we need to –" Cheyenne's voice caught in her throat. A pair of invisible hands were wrapped around her throat, squeezing and choking and strangling her.

She was saved from having to keep going when Jasper barged over to them, demanding to go to the intake door to see if the others had followed the plan. Bellamy snapped back to business, tangling his hand with Cheyenne's and leading them all to the entrance of the mines. It wouldn't leave her mind. Every time he pressed her behind him to shield her with his body, she wondered if he would still do it if he knew. Every time his hand landed gently on her arm or lower back, she wondered if he would still be so gentle if he knew.

When they opened the intake door, Clarke and Octavia were there. The rage in Clarke's eyes was hidden by her pain, but Cheyenne could still see it as soon as she met her best friend's eyes. She could see it because she felt the rage deep in her bones, smoldering like hot coals. Only where Clarke was trying to stomp out her rage like a used-up fire pit, Cheyenne was fanning the flames and breathing in the smoke that promised retribution to the tomb they wandered.

Octavia and Bellamy hugged tightly before she was pulling Cheyenne into an equally tight hug. It startled Cheyenne, she hadn't realized Octavia would ever want to hug her. Before she could hug back, Octavia was already away and hugging Jasper and Monty.

"Where's your army?" Bellamy asked, stepping a few feet closer Clarke.

"Gone, just like yours," she answered dryly. "Say you have a plan."

"Not really. We need to talk to Dante, Maya says he's in quarantine." Bellamy moved out of the way as Jasper and Monty slammed into Clarke.

A beeping noise from Maya's oxygen tank distracted Jasper and Monty. While Jasper was fawning over Maya's air, Cheyenne moved forward to stand with Bellamy and Clarke. She looked at Clarke hard, pursing her lips and staring the other girl down.

"I've got a plan. We're going to kill every single person in this mountain. I don't care what it takes."

Clarke mirrored her hard look and nodded. Looking between the two, Bellamy wondered what had happened to make Clarke so cold.


	9. Chapter 8

Day 51

The white halls of quarantine bothered her more than she let show. When she looked around herself, she was back in the white room they let her wake in. There was blood on her hands, on her shorts, on her knees, on her sheets. Pain that wasn't really there lingered in her lower abdomen, and for the first time since being told his baby was gone, she touched her stomach. It brought new anger into her, deadening her eyes and her heart and her mind. Bellamy's soft touch on her elbow as they came to a stop brought her eyes up to his.

"We're going to be okay, baby," he whispered.

His eyes were drawn to the hand she still pressed into the soft flesh of her tummy. He doesn't even know yet. Cheyenne's eyes were hollower than he'd ever seen them when she saw him look down. Her lack of reaction to him caused a small surge of panic to ignite in his chest. Then she nodded, almost reassuring him until she spoke.

"I'll be okay once I've killed them all," she said. Her smile was small and earnest at the thought of slaughter. It scared him.

The door to Dante Wallace's room was open. No one knocked when they entered. The old man's eyes were cold when he looked at Clarke and greeted her.

"Sir, we need your help again," Bellamy said, stopping any fake pleasantries before they could start.

"It's okay, I took out the camera from the junction box in the hall," Monty spoke up. "We can talk freely."

"No one's watching anyway. Thanks to you, they're all on level five." Dante looked at each one of them before his eyes lingered on Clarke again.

"You're not," she remarked.

"No – I'm not."

"Please," Bellamy interrupted. "We don't have much time. We need a way to get our people out of this mountain without killing everyone."

Clarke could tell from looking at Dante wouldn't help them. She said as much.

"You cut the power, risking the lives of everyone in this mountain, of my people, even the ones who helped you," he snapped.

"We knew they'd be safe on level five," Clarke snapped back, moving forward to get in his face. "We made sure not to destroy the turbines so you could repair them. We're the good guys here, not you."

Dante was unintimidated by her shouting. "Tell me, if we released your people and theirs, what would have happened to mine?"

Clarke turned away from him and to Monty. "Can you get us into the command center? We need to see what's happening on level five."

"No problem," Monty confirmed.

Bellamy was the one to grab Dante. "Let's go; you're going to help us whether you like it or not."

The only thing Cheyenne could see when she followed them down hallway after hallway was another dead body to add to her pile.

Monty opened the door to the command center. Once Bellamy cleared the room, he led in their prisoner. Clarke ushered Cheyenne in next, following right behind with Monty. Clarke shut the door behind him, telling Monty to get the monitors up. It only took him a few seconds before getting everything up and going. The sight on the screens made them all pause.

"Oh, my God," Clarke breathed.

"Is that Raven?" Bellamy asked. He grabbed a radio, shoving it at Dante. "Tell them to stop! Now!"

Cheyenne watched the screens as Bellamy and Clarke worked around her. The knife Octavia had loaned her was clenched tightly in her hand when she brought her eyes to Dante Wallace. When she looked at him, she could feel the heat of blood dripping from between her legs, the pain in her stomach, the nausea that churned inside her after she'd been released from quarantine. She could see Dr. Tsing's unfeeling expression as she told her about the "complications." Swift motion in front of her made her realize that Clarke was pointing a gun at Dante. Bellamy had moved into her eye line to talk down Clarke.

"Please don't make me do this," she said into the radio in her hand.

Things were still and quiet for a few tense seconds. "Dad, I'll take care of our people."

"None of us has a choice here, Clarke," Dante said sternly.

"I didn't want this." Clarke leveled her gun at Dante's chest.

"Neither did I."

The gun fired, and blood bloomed on his baby blue shirt. It felt good to watch him die. The world moved on around her while Cheyenne crouched next to Dante, watching with satisfied eyes as he struggled through his last breaths. Her lip curled up into a snarl when she leaned toward his head.

"That was for my baby, you bastard," she whispered viciously. The light dying in his eyes made her feel a little less broken inside.

"Listen to me very carefully," Clarke said darky into the radio. "I will not stop until my people are free. If you don't let them go, I will irradiate level five."


	10. Chapter 9

Day 51 (Continued)

Cheyenne stood up as everything began to escalate quickly. Clarke kept talking into the radio while Bellamy paced in short steps. Monty tapped away at the keyboard to deactivate Emerson's key card and then to find out how to irradiate level five. Cheyenne reached out to Bellamy, grabbing his sleeve. His face was troubled, and his eyes were filled with unshed tears, but he pulled her toward him anyway. She tucked herself under his arm, pressing the unbruised side of her face into his shoulder.

"Wait a second, Clarke. We need to think about this." Bellamy's voice was filled with emotion as he pleaded with Clarke. "There are kids in there, and people who helped us."

"Then, please, give me a better idea," Clarke pleaded back.

They watched on the screen as Abby replaced Raven on the table. Cheyenne could feel Clarke's desperation mounting as the milliseconds ticked on.

"Clarke, if we do this, there is no going back," Bellamy said urgently. He squeezed his arm around Cheyenne before moving away from her to put both of his hands on the table.

Monty looked uncertainly from Bellamy to Clarke.

"Figure it out," Clarke said quietly, nodding at Monty.

He kept working. Clarke kept watching the screen. Bellamy watched Clarke. Cheyenne watched Bellamy. Everyone was in tears, all for different reasons. Cheyenne's eyes kept going to Dante. A commotion on the screen drew everyone's attention.

"Now what?" Bellamy asked.

They watched as Octavia threw a sword into the chest of a guard before sliding down and kicking out the knee of another and cutting his throat. She and Maya took off into the crowd of mountain people. On another screen, Jasper was being led into the dorm in handcuffs. Then, a pounding on the door and view on another screen let them know Emerson was trying to break down the door. Monty's frantic typing stopped.

"Why are you stopping?" Clarke demanded.

"Because I did it." Monty motioned to a lever next to him on the table. "All we have to do is pull this. Hatches and vents will open and the scrubbers reverse, pulling in outside air."

Bellamy pulled out his gun to aim it at the doorway, pushing Cheyenne behind him with his free hand before both hands were steadying his aim. "He's going to blow the door." He was watching Emerson set up explosives on one of the screens.

"Clarke, we're out of time," Monty announced urgently.

Clarke's hand rested on the lever, but she didn't pull it. She stared hard at the screens for a tense eternity before Bellamy's hand came to rest on top of hers.

"My sister, my responsibility."

Cheyenne watched with bated breath as they looked at each other. Before they could start pulling, she moved closer to put her hand on top of both of theirs, staring at the lever when they looked at her. She would not let them bear this alone when she was already used to carrying the weight. Cheyenne's pressure had them pulling the lever together. On the screen, bodies began to drop like flies. Red dripped from the dead, pouring from them and puddling beneath them, filling the halls of the mountain. Her vengeance was satisfied, but it didn't fill the gaping hollow crater carved into her chest.

"Let's go get our people," Clarke whispered.

Clarke led the way from the command center. Cheyenne followed Bellamy closely and Monty was on her heels. She tried to empathize with Jasper when she saw him cradling Maya's burnt and broken body. All she could feel was glad. The mountain men were dead. They'd lost their lives like she'd lost the one growing inside of her.

Clarke took off further into the dorm when she spotted her mom. Cheyenne watched them reunite tearfully, along with Miller and his father, and Harper and Monty. Bellamy stood at her side when Marcus Kane approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him praise. She felt so empty. Watching all the other delinquents celebrate, she couldn't help but be bitter about what she'd lost inside that place. It was a tomb for her just as much as it was the tomb of the mountain men. Turning on her heel, she left the dorm to go back to the mess hall. Bellamy found her there a few minutes later, standing among the bodies. As he got closer, he could see the shake of her shoulders and hear her small sniffles.

"Cheyenne?"

A sob broke through when his voice reached her ears. He doesn't even know. He was already carrying so much. How was she supposed to tell him? Scalding tears fell down her cheeks, sliding down the soft skin of her neck to soak into the dip of her tank top.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Her fists clenched, the movement pulling at the still healing flesh of her hands. Cheyenne's shoulders folded in to protect herself. She could feel him getting closer. His body heat was just behind her. Her face crumpled as she began to cry in earnest. There was a heaviness in her chest that she'd been ignoring from Day Thirty-One, a weight that she couldn't lift without him. She needed him more than the air in her lungs and the blood in her veins. Large hands came to rest on her biceps, the fingers winding around her arms and tips nearly touching one another. She was tiny compared to him. He'd taken off the Kevlar. She only knew because he'd turned her around and pulled her into his chest. His strong arms held her so she could be weak, loud wails disappearing into the material of his shirt.

"It's okay, baby, just breathe," he whispered, rocking her slightly. The sight of what he'd done was looking back at him with three hundred and eighty-two pairs of glassy, dead eyes. "Everything is okay now, Cheyenne."

"No, it isn't," she cried, her words muffled by his chest. "Nothing is okay, Bellamy. The baby is gone. I coul – I couldn't save it, Bell – Bellamy, and everything is – is fucked."

"It's not your fault, Cheyenne. Clarke told me what happened, baby, and it's not your fault." Bellamy's arms tightened around her. "We're going to get through this, okay? You're mine, and I'm going to take care of you, baby."

His words made her spine tingle. She'd forgotten what it sounded like to belong to him. Cheyenne was finally able to move her hands up to his chest, pressing her palms flat against him and moving her arms around him in a hug. No one bothered them as she stood there to grieve, crying in Bellamy's arms.

Cheyenne walked under Bellamy's arm. Clarke and Monty were next to them, keeping pace. She could feel the guilt coming from them. The four of them had killed a mountain full of people together. Cheyenne wondered why there was no guilt in her heart. Instead of guilt, she felt the need to go back in time and pull the lever by herself. She had wanted that for herself. She wanted to draw on the walls of Mount Weather with the blood of the dead.

Miles disappeared beneath their feet. The forest stretched on around her, beckoning her to fade away into their midst. Yet Cheyenne stayed pressed against Bellamy, unwilling to leave him even for a moment to bear his burden alone. She could feel her heart stitching itself back together, little by little as she reveled in his presence next to her. Her face had begun to ache halfway through the night, but no one stopped walking. No one complained. They kept going until they made it to Camp Jaha, morning sunlight shining over the horizon.


	11. Chapter 10

Day 52

Alpha Station was largely intact, much to her surprise. A real camp had been set up, with an electric fence, a gate, various posts around it and places where people had set up workstations. The people who had remained at Camp Jaha were quick to help the injured get to medical. Cheyenne remained outside with Clarke, though she was sure they could spare her a painkiller inside. The large metal gates and wall and doors made her skin crawl after being trapped in a tomb for twenty days. Finally, she could tear her uneasy gaze from Camp Jaha to look at Clarke. She knew from the look on her face what Clarke was about to do. Clarke was her best friend, the sister she had never been allowed to have – she could read her like a book. This was a goodbye, just as she had known the day she ripped out the stitches in her arm that it would be a goodbye.

"Be careful, Clarke," Cheyenne said quietly. This time, the knowledge that Clarke would be gone didn't make her feel so bad. Clarke was tough, she would take care of herself. Cheyenne would know if Clarke needed her. She would feel it. She returned her gaze to Bellamy as he watched the others enter the gate.

"Thank you, Annie." Clarke's voice wavered with emotion. Cheyenne couldn't stop herself from reaching out and grabbing her hand, just like she'd done so many other times. "I love you."

Cheyenne stopped breathing entirely. Something unfamiliar and hot swelled inside of her sternum, filling the space between her lungs. "No one's ever said that to me before," she whispered.

"I won't be the last, Annie." Clarke pulled the younger girl around by the shoulder, bringing them face to face before she hugged her tightly. "Take care of each other."

"Of course, we will." Tears were welling in her eyes, but she didn't know if it was happiness or fear or love or grief or what it was that brought them to the surface. She squeezed her arms snugly around Clarke's body. "I – I love you, too."

They heard Bellamy approaching and pulled apart. Cheyenne's teeth chewed into her lip when she saw that Clarke was crying, too. It hurt so bad, but hearing Clarke tell her she loved her felt so good. After letting her hand rest on Bellamy's bicep for a few seconds, she turned away to let them say goodbye. A small part of her wanted to do what Clarke was doing. She wanted to run away, to disappear into the foliage around them and deal with what she had left behind in the mountain. One glance at Bellamy's beautiful brown eyes stopped her. She needed him. She needed him more than she needed anything else. He chased away her darkness, made her demons sleep, and carried her when she couldn't push herself forward. Bellamy Blake had been her everything since the moment he held her hand, tangling their fingers together until they crashed into Hell. When Cheyenne felt his arm go around her shoulder, she knew it was over.

"Come on, baby." His voice was deeper than usual as he tried to hide the tears. "Let's get you to medical."

"I don't want to go to medical. I just want to be with you," she admitted quietly, looking up at him as they walked through the gate. Their eyes met, and butterflies began to shake themselves awake in her stomach. "Please."

His smile was barely noticeable, but it was there. "Let's go lay down then."

Bellamy led her down the hallways of Alpha Station and into a room. It was obviously already claimed by him if the pile of clothes and his jacket he'd had since the dropship were things to go by. Then she looked on the small bedside table. The knife she had made their first day on the ground was there, and so was the piece of fabric she had used to tie up her hair. There were tears in her eyes again when she looked up at him. Ignoring the hot streaks making their way down her cheeks, she pushed herself up to kiss him softly. A button made the door slide shut behind them. They shucked their clothes in silence before crawling into bed together. His hand trailed up and down her spine while her head rested on his chest.

"I've missed you," he whispered.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered back. Words pressed against the back of her lips, wanting to push forward and fill the air between them. There was so much she wanted to say. There was so much she needed to tell him. Instead, she said, "Please, don't leave me."

Bellamy's fingers lifted her chin. He met her eyes with a serious look before he was kissing her. His mouth was hot and heavy on her own. His tongue tangled against hers and his hands pressed into her skin. They trailed down her neck and over her collar bones to press against her breasts. He was gentle but firm when he touched her, blazing a trail of fire down her body. Cheyenne's back arched when his fingers pressed inside of her and his thumb stimulated her into an orgasm. Her face and chest flushed, and he watched her eyes fluttering open to look at him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen with his fingers inside her and her mouth slightly parted as she gasped.

"Bellamy, please," she moaned quietly, bucking against his hand. She gripped the sheet in her fist.

He groaned, pressing his face into her neck. "Say my name again."

Cheyenne's voice was breathless when she cried out his name.

"Who do you belong to, Cheyenne?" he asked against the skin of her throat.

"You, Bellamy." Her small hands slipped into the hair on his head, pulling and tugging at his scalp.

His hand left her to push apart her knees. His hips fit perfectly between hers, and then she could feel him pulling her legs apart and pressing inside of her. Large hands guided her thighs to wrap around his hips and then he was moving, hard and fast, fucking her into the bed. Cheyenne could hear his skin on hers, she could taste his tongue when he kissed her, she could feel the sting of her body accommodating his, she could see the smattering of freckles on his nose, she could smell the sweat clinging to his skin. She came around him, crying out his name like it was the only word she knew. Bellamy followed a few moments later, spilling inside of her and dropping his weight to rest on her. He held her close as their breathing began to even out.

Finally, Cheyenne could breathe. The straps holding tightly around her chest, suffocating her, choking her, making her feel like she was dying, loosened and were replaced by his arms. The ice that formed around her heart was melting, little by little, heated by the warmth of his skin. He calmed the rage in her veins and the demons screaming for blood in her mind. Bellamy ducked his head down to kiss her again like his very kiss was going to press deep enough to kiss her soul. When her hand brushed the curls back from his forehead, blood smeared wet and bright across his tanned skin. She was finally home.


End file.
